


Anaconda

by Pinkcess



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Crack, M/M, OOC, Pining, Post-Episode: s02e01-03 Orion Pax, Ridiculous, Thighs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 12:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9725258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkcess/pseuds/Pinkcess
Summary: A mysterious problem has formed in Megatron's forces. He decides to investigate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this completely sleep-deprived. I love TFP Optimus' thighs so much. They're just. So. Powerful. So I ended up dedicating 1k-odd words to them. There isn't a hint of anything serious here. Enjoy! (?)

There was a rather… unusual problem among his ranks. His vehicon troops were becoming distracted, coming back injured more often (Knockout found the wounds were often caused by  _ friendly-fire _ , weapons accidentally going off). Due to this issue, he had sent Soundwave out to do work that should have been simple enough for mere foot soldiers to carry out. He'd had no doubt that his third in command would return successful. 

Which was why he was so flummoxed when Soundwave returned, empty handed. His TiC shifted in a way that could be considered awkward. 

“... How?” Megatron asked. He was too surprised to be angry. Soundwave shifted again, his frame hunching up. Almost as if he were embarrassed. 

The answer Megatron received was a mash of recordings hastily strung together, some from human songs and others a combination of voices. 

“ _ Optimus… _ ” He heard himself rumble. “ _ Ass like… sweet design.”  _ A fragment of human song. “ _ Polished fresh as anything - sweet rims _ !” Knockout flirted. 

Megatron rebooted his optics, blinking at Soundwave. The other mech tipped his helm to face the floor in shame. 

“ _ Shiny! _ ” Knockout enthused. The tone of the recording was completely at odds with the dejected way the silent mech held himself. “ _ Very… nice. _ ” Starscream purred. 

It took Megatron a few kliks to compute. 

“... Do you mean to tell me that Optimus  _ polished _ himself and  _ that's  _ why all my troops are distracted?”

Soundwave nodded his helm, still facing the floor. 

Silence hung in the air awkwardly as Megatron tried to wrap his processor around the idea, turning his face away so his expression couldn't be seen as the mental image presented itself. 

Very quietly, a recording of Breakdown followed by Airachnid played. “ _ I’d bang - that one _ .”

Megatron whipped his helm around to glare at his TiC, who shrunk even further into himself. 

“Obviously, if I cannot trust even you… I must go myself.”

At that, Soundwave straightened up. He tilted his helm at Megatron as if to say  _ oh really?  _

Megatron avoided his gaze, straightening his own posture and trying to look collected. He had a feeling that he may have failed from the way his third tilted his helm further. 

He cleared his vocaliser. “Next time a battle breaks out, ground bridge me immediately. It is crucial no more vehicons get distracted and that your concentration remains steadfast. It is my duty as your leader, my  _ responsibility _ , to go myself and assess the risk.”

Soundwave just stared at him. 

“Dismissed.” Megatron urged. The other mech bowed slightly and then left. 

Megatron let out a large ventilation. 

He was utterly fragged. 

* * *

Even before Optimus had accepted the primacy and his frame was that of an archivist, he'd been such a lovely thing. Megatron remembered thinking that his antennae had been particularly cute but when his mind had wandered to… less savoury topics… it had always been the thighs. They were excellent - thick, wonderful thighs. Thighs he would have happily drowned in and thighs that he happily had in many a daydream. They would be delicate, but still strong enough to clamp around him just so-

He rattled his vents, trying to distract his thoughts with the sound. He had a job to do. He'd been deliberating at the ground bridge for a few moments too long, Soundwave was giving him the  _ look.  _

Megatron ignored him and charged through, a quip queued ready for him to speak. 

Of course Optimus was the first thing he saw when he exited the ground bridge, he liked to position himself in between Megatron and his teammates, a shield. 

Of course Megatron lost control of his vocaliser the moment he computed the sight of the Prime. He  _ was  _ polished! His paintjob had always been opalescent, but the polish brought it out in a way that was almost indecent. His hips and his thighs had received the same treatment, they positively  _ glistened _ in the Earth’s sun. 

Had Megatron said that his thighs were excellent? 

He meant that they were downright  _ magnificent _ . 

“Sweet Unicron.” He rasped. 

They were weapons of mass destruction, sure to bring any mech to his doom. 

The Autobots were looking at him strangely. 

Megatron would be the first to admit that right now… he wanted to punch himself. Really badly. Had he really told Soundwave he could handle this? 

Optimus moved towards him, Megatron's eyes snapped to his hips and thighs as they moved.  _ So graceful…  _

He was a fool. He could not handle this. He would be best to retreat while he was ahead, pride be damned! 

The ground bridge closed behind him, an energon preserving feature. Megatron cursed. 

“Megatron-” Oh no, he was going to begin one of his  _ protecting the Earth  _ monologues and Primus he always got so passionate and that baritone and those damned  _ thighs _ .

If he were a human, he'd be sweating. 

_ Stop him,  _ Megatron thought.  _ Or look a fool and end up dead when you start making spark-eyes at him. Think!  _

He said the first thing that came to his processor.

“I want your thighs around my-” He realised what he'd said but he was thankful to notice that he'd mumbled and the Autobots were straining to hear him. 

Primus, he needed to get his processor out of the gutter. He said the next thing that came to him. 

“I'm here to negotiate a peace treaty.”

… That wasn't much better. At all. What the frag? 

Optimus’ optics were full of distrust. “Why now, Megatron?”

_ Because I am weak _ . He hated to admit it, filled with a half-sparked rage.  _ You make me weak. You and your Unicron-be-damned shiny  _ thighs! 

“Why should we trust you?” The big, bulky one asked, glaring. 

At least this was ground he was more comfortable on. He put Optimus out of his sight, focusing instead on the the one who'd questioned him. He smirked. “Because you can't afford not to. The energon you can garner from this planet without taking from my mines or causing harm to your  _ humans _ is not enough to keep you all fueled indefinitely.”

“Your sudden desire for peace is unnerving,” Optimus was talking so Megatron would have to look at him again. He pointedly ignored anything below his intake. At least that battlemask was covering his mouth, Megatron really didn't want to follow that line of thought. “And trust is hard to extend… particularly as you abused it last time.”

The reminder of his extended time with Orion made him feel inexplicably guilty. He cleared his vocaliser. “Ah, but that was a temporary truce. The truce I am offering this time would be permanent, provided we could agree on terms that both sides could stick to.”

Something in the set of Optimus’ frame changed, his optics softening slightly. He was clearly feeling a little hopeful. Megatron wondered if Optimus could still read him so well. A large part of him hoped not. 

It wouldn't do to have the other know how awkward Megatron was feeling as he so blatantly tried to avoid staring at anything other than his face. 

“We will… consider your offer,” Optimus began carefully. “How are we to contact you when we come to a conclusion?”

That answer meant that most likely, Optimus had decided to accept the offer but needed to see how his team felt. 

Megatron shrugged, ignoring the urge to look away from him. It was, after all, deadly to not pay attention to a rival. “I use the same comm number.”

Optimus’ optic ridges quirked slightly in surprise. 

_ [Soundwave, ground bridge.]  _ He commanded. 

“I await your decision.”

The groundbridge opened behind him and he turned to walk through, a flash of thigh in the corner of his optic as the sun reflected off of it. 

How the frag was he going to explain  _ this _ to his Decepticons? 

* * *

Soundwave was still giving him the look when he walked through the ground bridge.  For a mech with no face, he was extremely expressive. The set of his frame and the tilt of his helm said more than his recordings could.

“Not a word.” Megatron said uselessly. Thankfully, the bridge was empty. 

Soundwave was, of course, amused. 

“I'm not the only one!” Megatron justified, feeling too defensive. “At least I didn't shoot a teammate.”

Soundwave didn't have to point out that he hadn't even charged his cannon. He just tilted his helm in that way he did when he found something hilarious. 

“You were affected too!”

Soundwave shrugged. 

“Why didn't you warn me about… the thighs?”

His TiC looked at him in a way that could only be described as incredulous. 

“Although, I suppose you don't have the lexicon to correctly describe the situation.” Megatron allowed. 

“Thiiiii-iiiiiiiiii-iiighs.” Soundwave remixed his previous words and added some strange  _ wub _ noises. 

“I agree throughly. Although, I admit I thought I was the only one with this… fascination.”

Soundwave shook his helm and gestured to himself and then displayed a collection of pictures of the various crew members across his visor. All of them… were  _ distracted  _ by Optimus’ thighs... Was that  _ Airachnid? _ That one  _ was  _ one pit of a surprise, he’d thought she was only interested in Arcee and murder.

“Really?” The news really shouldn't have shocked him as much as it did. Back when he'd first met Orion, he'd made sure to keep an optic on him around the arena. Many a gladiator had been attracted to him, including himself and  _ apparently _ Soundwave… Although he'd always thought the thigh-fixation was one of his own perverted quirks. 

“ _ Thick ass, give ‘em whiplash. _ ” Soundwave told him in a clip of song. 

“Aftmech.” Megatron rolled his optics but the term was one of endearment between them. He'd always personally prefered broad chests, but there was something about Optimus’ legs and hips…

Although he was quite blessed in the chest armor department too.  _ Time to cut that process of thought short _ , Megatron acknowledged, feeling flustered. 

“Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiighs~” Soundwave played back at him gleefully. 

Megatron doubted his third would be quite so gleeful when he realised what he'd done. 

He fought back the need to groan. He really was, well and truly, fragged. All it took was a polished aft and his forces crumpled. 


End file.
